


The Invasion

by Onomatopoetikon



Series: From Warriors to Wardens [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Book: Dragon Age - The Calling, Developing Relationship, M/M, Origin Story, Pre-Canon, Soldiers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25627993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onomatopoetikon/pseuds/Onomatopoetikon
Summary: Based on the novel "Dragon Age: The Calling" by David Gaider, this story is the second part of a trilogy that focuses on the relationship between Nicolas and Julien.
Relationships: Julien/Nicolas (Dragon Age)
Series: From Warriors to Wardens [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857682
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning for this fic, particularly for chapter 3: mentions of blood, visit to a brothel, use of derogatory words and slurs against sex workers.

"You know what the worst part about this impending darkspawn invasion is?"

"Enlighten me" Julien said.

"That after a week of waiting here, the darkspawn have yet to show up and invade!"

Nicolas cut the straw doll with his sword, causing one of the arms to fall to the ground. He kicked at the straw, then sheathed the weapon and sighed. The temporary camp outside the Val Mort garrison was not much different from the garrison in Fortalan, not really. They were lodging in tents rather than stone buildings and in the middle of the camp, right in front of the Captain's tent, a small square had been left empty and was now used for anything from training to gathering the company. The only thing that was truly different was that the few comforts available to a soldier, such as a hot bath once in a while or an extensive library, were – though within a short distance – not for them to use.

They had been camped in this field for a week now, seventy-five men tired and dusty after the five day march to reach Val Mort from Fortalan. There were another three hundred or so men from other garrisons in other cities, all of them rushed there to aid in defending the great city of Val Mort from the darkspawn threat. They had expected to arrive to battle, or in worst case a battle lost, but not this. Waiting.

Nicolas snorted and kicked at the straw again.

"They are coming closer" Julien pointed out as he drew the sharpening steel along the length of his greatsword. "There will be a battle. Perhaps sooner than you think."

"I don't _want_ a battle" Nicolas protested. "Sure, I want to fight. Better than just sitting around like this. But I don't want a battle."

"Well, you're in for one" Alec pointed out who joined them on the patch of trampled grass. "I just heard one of the lieutenants say that there are Grey Wardens coming – I think this will be bigger than anyone guessed."

"The Grey Wardens?" Nicolas echoed.

"You _have_ heard of them, surely?" Alec sneered.

"Of course I have" Nicolas retorted. "But when have they actually done something, I mean, recently? Their glory is all in the past."

"Perhaps." It was Julien who made the single-word contribution.

"Oh come on! At least consider it some change and excitement to just hanging around, waiting for the darkspawn to come" Alec said before leaving them for better companionship.

Julien paused in the sharpening of his weapon. His voice was low when he spoke.

"I have some good news though" he said.

"What? Oh please do share, I need some good news, lest I die from boredom!" Nicolas exclaimed theatrically, his hand itching for his sword and relieving the straw doll of its other arm as well, or maybe its head.

"Unless the darkspawn find our party, I am on leave after the afternoon patrol."

Nicolas felt the grin on his face widen in a milli-moment.

"I'll see you after dinner then?" he asked, unable to entirely keep the enthusiasm from his voice, trying to keep it down though he was.

"Yes."

And there it was. A sweet, soft smile just barely visible, gone in the blink of an eye, and Nicolas could find nothing more to complain about.

Nicolas had not been to many battles and never before one where the opponent consisted of darkspawn – darkspawn who did not deign to show up to the fight, no less. But he had been to battle and so far, except from the lack of fighting, it was not so very different from those he had experienced.

During their march from Fortalan they had raised the camp every night and taken it down each morning, but now the tents had not been moved for many nights and the once lush, green grass of the field was already little more than dirt and mud, trampled down by heavy boots. The short way to the stream looked equally downtrodden, a muddy footpath where none had existed before. And also, there were women.

Women had no place in the garrison. While women could be minstrels or bards, and were known for being skilled assassins, the Fortalan garrison like so many others were closed to female soldiers. All the staff were male as well, servants, cooks and healers, and this was perhaps the main reason why the girls of the town and the farms held such attraction to most of the men. A camp, though, was surrounded by women.

They had been there at dawn of the second morning, a scarce few at first, selling goods and services alike – some more intimately so than others – and soon, a significant crowd. While the officers did not particularly encourage these trades, they did very little to end them as long as it did not interfere with the soldiers' obligations. For these reasons, many of the soldiers visited the women's tents that were raised just outside of camp, easily available by all the encamped groups. For this reason, few men, if any, thought to venture out into the nearby forest for their pleasures. To Nicolas and Julien, however, that was a blessing, because for them it was the only alternative.

They had found a fallen tree a few days after camp had been settled. The uprooted giant had created something like a burrow in the earth, overgrown with thick moss, and as the sun began to sink towards the horizon, that was where Nicolas went.

It was only a five minute walk from the edge of the forest to the fallen tree, and he waited there for perhaps ten minutes before Julien came into sight.

There were no words as they met, only hungry mouths and deft hands with nimble fingers swiftly removing clothes and caressing unclothed skin. Needs and wants were expressed through touches and kisses, unspoken but still sounding as clearly as chiming chantry bells. When their bodies united, hidden beneath the lush overhang, it was all Nicolas could do not to cry out loud with pleasure.

Afterwards they lay together on the soft mattress of moss and discarded clothes. Evening birds sang in the trees around them and all was peaceful.

"This was officially the greatest time of this entire venture" Nicolas declared as he circled the other man's nipples with his fingertips.

"Did you not say that about the last time as well?" Julien retorted, a laughter evident in his soft voice.

"I did, but you and I are definitely on a roll. We just keep on getting better. Don't you think?"

"I do."

"Great."

For a few moments, there was silence, and Nicolas returned to one of his recent favorite pastimes: tracing Julien's body with his hands. It was still not entirely familiar to him, but he knew it well enough, seeing as this was only the third time he had had the opportunity of studying it. The march had been almost impossible to endure, with the knowledge of how it felt to make love to the man walking and eating and sleeping just meters away from him, while impossible to repeat the pleasant experience. Now, Nicolas enjoyed just lying there, resting and feeling. Again, his hand found the trace of the long, silvery scar on the left side of Julien's torso. It was treacherously smooth beneath his touch, not like scar tissue at all.

"Is this another time?" he asked, peering at the other man for non-verbal answers. "This poisoned blade, would you tell me about it?"

"I would rather not."

"Why?"

Julien sighed and caught Nicolas' hand in his own, lifted it to his lips and kissed it softly.

"Because it is not a single story. It is bigger than that."

"We have all night" Nicolas pointed out. "And it is a warm night, too."

"Very well then…" It was not really a sigh coming from Julien's mouth, but something similar. He seemed to collect himself for a moment. "I told you I was training to become a chevalier, yes?"

"Yeah, but you didn't take the oath."

"No."

"Because you killed a man?"

"Yes."

"Would the chevaliers refuse you for something like that?" It seemed unlikely to Nicolas, but then, his opinion and knowledge about the chevaliers was based upon rumors. With little to none experience of his own, but a lifetime of hearsay, Nicolas was hardly an objective party – and not in the chevaliers' favor. Julien seemed to be of the same mind on this point, at least, because he made a chuckle.

"No, I suppose they would not mind. My parents did, however. Not so much the killing per se, but the indiscretion."

"Why? Was it not fancy enough?"

Nicolas was almost surprised at the tone in his own voice. Almost, because he had never quite understood the noble families and their compulsive need for anything currently in fashion and the absolute rejection of everything else. If Julien noticed the tone, he let it be.

"There was a man, another chevalier-in-training. I was in love. He was younger by two years, but his family was more closely related to the Imperial family than mine, and we were both betrothed." 

Betrothed? Nicolas found the idea amusing, but held back a laugh. It was only to be expected, after all. 

"We thought we were discreet. Not sufficiently, as it turned out."

"What happened?"

Julien had fallen silent and Nicolas was unsure where the story was headed. While he was glad that Julien shared the story with him, he was a bit surprised at the deeply personal affair it proved to be: how very much Julien showed of his feelings, leaving himself exposed and possibly vulnerable. It was touching, and Nicolas was eager to learn more.

"We were found out" Julien concluded. "Any other man would have stayed silent, or if it was an officer, reprimanded us in a subtle way, but this was one of our comrades. He also happened to be the brother of the girl to whom I had been promised since infancy."

"Oh…"

"Not only did he report us to the highest instance of the fort, for idleness I think it was, he also demanded satisfaction from me. I had stained his pride, and that of his sister and the family name."

"I guess that was not very discreet of him."

"It was not" Julien agreed. "I could not refuse him the duel, of course, and our superiors could not cancel it because it concerned honor, and his family was of high renown. So we fought."

"And his blade was poisoned but you still killed him?"

"I did."

"And then?" Nicolas had feeling that this was not the end.

"Well…" Julien said and shifted slightly. "Since he died, there was no way of hiding the truth. Especially not since he had written letters, not only to his sister and father but also to my father and the father of my… the other man."

Nicolas could feel Julien tense at the mention, could almost hear the gritting of teeth.

"It was hushed down in public when I agreed to take responsibility for cancelling the betrothal and to give up my family name, my home and my ambitions within the chevaliers."

"That is… horrible. And so unfair!"

"It was the least disastrous thing to do. My family was paid handsomely to ensure that I never saw the man ever again."

"But why? Why should you have to take the fall?"

"Because we were less connected and had lower status. If I took the fall, the others could go free. And I am sure you know that nobility always need to blame someone for unfortunate events."

They were both silent for a while and even though Nicolas now began to feel the temperature slowly falling he did nothing to further shelter himself, but simply lay there, thinking.

"Do you miss him?"

"Sometimes, yes."

"How long since you left?"

"Eight months."

Silence fell again but not for long. In spite of the low overhanging roof of moss and roots, Nicolas got himself on top of Julien, supporting himself with hands and knees on the ground as he bent down and kissed the other man. As he drew back slightly it appeared as if Julien was going to question the kiss and Nicolas quieted him with a finger on the lips.

"There's plenty of time before we have to be back in camp" Nicolas whispered. "Let's stay a bit longer."

No objection passed Julien's lips. They kissed again and their hands started caressing each other's bodies. After some while, when their bodies were once again warm enough to stave of the chill of the night, Nicolas went further down with his mouth and Julien cried out in equal shares of pleasure and surprise.

"Who's there?"

The deep voice boomed through the clearing and Nicolas recognized it instantly, the accent evident even in those two words only. Julien, however, did probably not know who the voice belonged to and he did not seem as if he was capable of answering, so Nicolas gave up his business and righted himself a bit. He wet his lips and, with a pointed look at Julien, said loudly:

"Maker's breath, Tomas! Here I am, trying to bring some satisfaction to a beautiful friend and you almost bring the entire camp down on us."

"Is that you, Nic?" said the voice, a bit lower, after a few moments. He sounded doubtful, but not agitated or suspicious.

"Sure is. Now, will you kindly give us some privacy so I can get my permit's worth of fun?"

Julien looked as if he was about to laugh, a prospect which intrigued Nicolas because laughter was a rare thing indeed when Julien was concerned. Still, he could see why laughter would be close at hand. He felt rather silly, sitting buck-naked on top of Julien, both of them aroused, communicating in an attempted easy tone with the soldier some distance away.

"Yeah, uh, sure. Just be sure to be back in camp before leave is over."

"Will do. Good night, Tomas."

Still on the brink of laughter, they listened intently for the sounds of movement. Finally, Nicolas relaxed.

"Beautiful friend?" Julien said, mirth still in his voice.

"Would you have preferred handsome? Robust? Name your choice, I will make sure to remember it next time."

Julien only shook his head, smiling. Nicolas let his hands travel down the other man's body again, leaning closer to him.

"Now, where was I?"


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Nicolas could not stop yawning as he went about the early morning patrol. It seemed a perfect waste of time to patrol the area surrounding the encamped garrison groups, if anything they should be scouting the countryside for signs of darkspawn and taint – but there were already scouts sent out, and Nicolas recognized the need to engage soldiers in routine, lest they be completely worthless when it was time to fight. But it was a boring patrol, endurable only because there were pleasant memories to recall from the previous night.

He had gotten less sleep than he had perhaps needed, but he did not regret having spent the long hours in the forest with Julien. Treading the downtrodden tracks of a hundred patrolling boots, he could remember the man's hands on his body or the sensation of warm, intimate kisses chasing the cold away from his limbs. He relished in the memories, futilely wishing to be back in the camp with Julien – or much rather somewhere more private – continuing their explorations, rather than here, on patrol.

"I heard you had some company last night" Duane said as they passed a heap of large stones, piled together no doubt to be out of the way from the cultivatable fields.

"You did, huh" Nicolas said, trying to keep his voice neutral. He did not care much if the other soldiers' knew of his connections; most of them already knew about his inclination and left it at that, but since Julien had asked for his silence and Nicolas had given it, he did not want to encourage rumors or, worse, give them further fuel by accidentally spilling something.

"Not that it's any of my business" the man continued, hardly even glancing at their surroundings as they walked, "but I just thought to remind you that the Captain wants us nearby the camp. Not that I think it matters, the damn things seem to have lost their interest in this whole fight."

"Thanks for the reminder" Nicolas said, silently agreeing with Duane's assessment of the situation. "Do you think there will even be a battle?"

Duane made a non-committal sound and shrugged, sidestepping an especially muddy patch of the path. He was just about to speak when they heard shouting from the other end of the field – not their own camp, but one of the other garrisons. Even with the distance, the words were audible.

"The Wardens! The Grey Wardens are here!"

It had taken only the quarter of an hour for all the camps to go from their regular state of semi-orderly training, patrolling and preparations to a formal assembly, every soldier down to the last man in their armor and with weapons at their side, all standing at attention in straight rows as the group of Grey Wardens entered the field.

Nicolas was in the second row of his garrison with a good view of the newcomers, and he was not impressed.

Well, it was always something of a sight to see men marching, armor and weapons gleaming in the sunlight, the steady thumping of boots on the ground thunderous enough to send a vibration echoing through the body. It created anticipation, of fight and of battle, of blood pumping through your body and every muscle trembling with strength and fatigue and rush – and Nicolas almost wished that it had been darkspawn rather than Wardens entering the camp.

But they were an odd mix of people, of men and women, of humans, elves and even dwarves. Some wore heavy armor, others only chainmail shirts; some bore shields, others crossbows; yet others daggers and a few of them – staffs. For all their uniformity in motion, they were a diverse bunch of people, and there were only about twenty of them all in all.

Twenty people. These hundreds of garrison soldiers, enforcements to another garrison of several hundred men, had waited for the arrival of twenty people? They had to be something extra-ordinary indeed, if they could make such a difference with so few men.

Nicolas watched them move past the rows of attending soldiers, their gazes guarded as they met the eyes of the soldiers watching them. There was no apparent leader of their ranks and while they moved in step, they were not strictly speaking marching. Rather than moving in rows of four or five, they moved in a group, a circle. It was not until they reached the group of Captains, assembled in a group of their own, that a tall, broad man separated himself from the others and stepped forward, soon followed by an elven man who Nicolas assumed to be some sort of second-in-command.

It was impossible to discern what was being discussed between the officers, but Nicolas imagined that anything of importance would be announced soon enough. Considering there was anything of importance being said, of course. He doubted it.

After some time, the Warden leader went back to his group, clearly giving them orders, while the elf remained with the Captains. The Wardens broke off into groups of fours, each smaller group repositioning themselves by one of the gathered garrisons – apparently assigned to them, in some way and for some unknown purpose – and some while later, the assembly broke up and every garrison returned to their respective camps.

Had they been an army proper, Nicolas guessed, only the most senior officers would have been entitled to join the deliberations with the Wardens, later to relay the most relevant information to their own smaller segments of soldiers. As it was, however, the Captain of the Fortalan garrison decided to have the soldiers informed and instructed directly by the Wardens, in groups of about twenty at a time, so as not to interfere too much with the ordinary dealings of the day.

It was early evening before Nicolas' group met the Wardens. The evening meal had been served and the patrols had recently shifted, leaving most of the men remaining in camp eager for sleep or the company of women and drink. Nicolas would have much rather enjoyed another rendezvous with Julien, but he was on patrol and Nicolas was stuck with the Wardens.

But it was an interesting group, to be sure.

There was a male dwarf, his hair and beard a murky shade of brown but decorated with intricate braids, his face tattooed with black markings that gave him a menacing look – which was effectively countered by a wide grin and surprisingly blue eyes. There was also a mage, almost the perfect opposite of the dwarf as he was thin, lean and tall whereas the dwarf was, naturally, short and broad and wide. The mage was average-looking to the point of ridicule, impossible to describe in words as his features were all bland and dull. And then there was the other two.

They had to be related in some way. Like mirrors, they were, both tall and with identical sets of armor and large greatswords, both with white hair cropped short, their voices the only chief difference between them, distinguishing one as male and the other as female.

A table had been placed in the middle of the open square in the middle of camp, on which small items had been placed to illustrate the city of Val Mort, the location of the garrison camps and the assumed location of the darkspawn. It was the dwarf who spoke, gesturing at the pieces, moving them at intervals – sometimes asking one of his fellows for their opinion or clarification, and finally letting the soldiers ask questions.

"How long before they get here?" Alec asked. "The darkspawn."

"We believe it to be a matter of days" the human warrior replied, after exchanging glances with the others. "They are closing in rapidly."

"But what's taken them so long?" another man broke in. "When we got news, everyone thought the town would be infected long before we got here."

"That is not the darkspawns' fault" the mage interjected, his voice surprisingly melodious and strong. If a voice was any inclination of magic power and ability, Nicolas was pretty convinced that his man had both – and in great quantity. "Darkspawn are not human, and do not move like a human army would."

"Isn't that the truth" the dwarf said, continuing: "They will come soon enough, don't worry about that."

"But why Val Mort?" Nicolas found himself asking. "Why are they coming here, and how can anyone be sure they will?"

Silence fell as the Wardens exchanged glances. After a few long moments, the dwarf cleared his throat.

"We know from history that while darkspawn attacks almost always begin with caravans or small farms, then move on to larger villages and cities as their numbers grow. That is why we must to try to stop them early on, and Val Mort is the largest city for a long distance. They wouldn't go anywhere else."

"Why not stop them earlier?" Alec asked. "Surely it's been weeks since they first showed up – why not march to them instead of waiting?"

Again, the Wardens looked at each other, silently seeking each other's counsel on what to say.

"The darkspawn have been fought" the male warrior said, "by us. But they grow fast in numbers: assembling a small army here and prepare for their arrival is the best way of defeating this attack before it grows even larger and spreads further into the land."

"And they must be defeated" his female opposite stated firmly, her voice full with strength and passion, "or do you question that as well?"

They silenced at that, looking at each other and mumbling in agreement or nodding slightly. No one wanted the land covered with the taint, or worse, a Blight. Obviously, a week's wait was hardly a high price to pay if the threat could be wiped out.

"Well" the dwarf said in an easy voice, "I think that's enough of tactics for tonight. It's too dark to practice now so we'll see you all here in the morning again, after breakfast."

"What if the darkspawn come tonight?" someone asked.

"Oh, they won't" the dwarf said, a wry smile on his face. "They won't."

And they did not. The night passed uneventfully, and so did the morning, which Nicolas spent in the square, showing off his skills in front of the unimpressed Wardens. It was well over an hour's exercise, the soldier's fighting each other in twos or threes, before the white-haired woman broke the steady sound of heavy steps, weapons clanking and men breathing in that concentrated way that came naturally when sword-fighting.

"No, no, no!" she exclaimed loudly, calling them off with a wave of her arm. "This is ludicrous!"

She had been watching in silence, as had the other Wardens, but it was apparent that she had had enough. Her eyes flared with anger.

"You're fighting each other" she said heatedly. "That won't be of any use to you when the darkspawn come. They don't fight politely, they don't avoid dangerous strikes if they see you're off balance – they fight dirty and you must be prepared for that."

In a single movement she drew her sword from its sheath on her back and struck at one of the nearby soldiers, who only barely managed to block it with his sword, held at an awkward angle. She did not pause however, but made another strike which she quickly followed with a stabbing motion. The soldier would have surely died right on the spot, had not the man standing next to him gathered his wits and flung out his shield, knocking the sword off course. This did not stop the woman, she merely altered her stance and swept her blade in a wide arc, causing most of the soldiers to take a hasty step back in order not to be sliced in half.

"Do you see?" she demanded. "If you fight like you have been doing for the past hour, you'll all die."

With her sword still raised and pointed at the soldiers surrounding her, she turned, making a full circle as she spoke again.

"Why do you all fight with swords and shields? This entire camp does, why is that?"

"They're city guards" the mage sneered.

"Is there anyone who can wield any other weapons? Are there even any? Speak up!"

"For Maker's sake, Genevieve, lower your sword or the poor fellows will never dare to answer" the male warrior said to the woman, then addressed the entire group. "Your skills are adequate, but bear my sister's words in mind when the battle begins. And if you're capable of using other weapons, come to us and we will try to acquire such from the city. Diversity in weaponry and range is essential."

With that, exercise was called off. Some of the men scattered quickly, no doubt to put their effects away before hurrying away to the women's tents and spend their short time of freedom there. Nicolas and a few others stayed behind, dutifully reporting their skills. There were some archers, and of course Alec with his daggers, and one man who claimed to be able to use bolas. Nicolas, naturally, mentioned his mace, information which was received with as much interest as the other men's reports – that was, not very much. But he had brought it, just like Alec had brought his daggers, and they were summarily ordered to bring them to the battle.

"They're really full of themselves" Alec remarked as they had left the square and were at a safe distance away from the Wardens.

"Really" Nicolas agreed. "But at least I get to fight with a weapon of my choice."

"True. I hardly think Fergus would challenge the Wardens, but if he did, they would probably only consider it even more valuable to have you use it."

Nicolas smiled at this.

"And your daggers?" he asked. "Will they be enough or will I have to do your share of the fighting as well?"

"Ha! Already forgotten our last duel, have you?"

"Not at all. It was the luckiest day of your life."

"You wish it was" Alec retorted and aimed his elbow at Nicolas' ribs. Nicolas dodged the attack, laughing, and then they went their separate ways, each to his duties.


	3. Chapter 3

As the day passed, Nicolas could feel the camp buzzing with anticipation and energetic preparations. There were no reports of the darkspawn closing in, not yet, but the arrival of the Grey Wardens sparked the soldiers' spirits and there was work being done everywhere. When evening fell, excitement lingered around the small fires where the men ate and talked, mostly about the news that the Wardens expected the darkspawn to reach Val Mort sometime around noon the following day. Flasks were passed between the soldiers, the contents warming their insides just like the fire warmed them from the outside, and with the alcohol came visions of the battle ahead and memories of battles past.

Nicolas sat with Julien by one of those fires, listening to the chatter. It was growing late, but no one seemed to go to their tents and sleep. He could understand that. It was a mix of things, not fear of a sudden nighttime attack, really, but anticipation of action mixed together with the subtle understanding that by evening tomorrow, some of them might not be alive. It was like they were all of them standing together on the edge of something, knowing full well that another step could kill them, but unable to resist the temptation of doing it all the same. Perhaps that was why he thought going into town was a good idea.

He had not been inside the walls of Val Mort – this was the closest he had ever been to such a large city – but he had not been very curious, knowing that it was probably much the same as Fortalan. Even so, with the ensuring certainty of drink in his body, and the other men's encouraging cries of laughter and promises of pleasures awaiting them, he yielded. And so they went.

The road to the city gates was as well-trodden as the footpaths on the field where the garrisons were encamped, and just as crowded. Soldiers on duty marched up and down the road, those on leave walked, talked and laughed to each other with easiness and anticipation in their voices.

"Let's go to the Crimson Rose!" one of the men suggested, eyes bright with excitement. "They're sure to be cheap tonight!"

"You've been there? They any good?" another asked, clearly interested but his speech slurring enough to make Nicolas think that he would not be sober enough to enjoy any sort of service once they got there, at least not if he kept drinking from his seemingly bottomless flask.

"They are!" the first man said, "better than the camp ladies, and the sheets are clean enough."

_There are beds_ , Nicolas thought. _What I wouldn't give to sleep in a bed tonight_.

"Tell us 'bout the gals then" the drunk soldier said, taking another swig of drink.

"Well, there's redheads and blondes and brunettes and they all got big tits" the boy said simply, then, after a second's thought amended, "well, all but the elves."

Most of the men hummed in agreement of this unfortunate state of elven whores and their endowments, but Nicolas caught Julien's look of mild disinterest.

"What?" he asked. "Aren't you intrigued by the treasures of the Crimson Rose?"

"Are you?" Julien replied simply, his slightly raised brow the only thing betraying his tension in asking. Perhaps… for a short moment, Nicolas though he detected uneasiness in the other man's voice.

"I think a brothel can be a nice retreat once in a while" he replied, seeing from the corner of his eye how the flask, seemingly bottomless earlier, was now clearly empty and soon discarded on the ground as the party moved on. "And the whores are often decent enough."

"I would not know."

"What?"

"I have never been to a brothel. Nor slept with a woman."

Nicolas was sure that this knowledge had been meant for him alone. Unfortunately, the other men were not so hard of hearing as to miss this vital piece of information.

"What?" The man who had first suggested the visit, Bastien, echoed. "What're you saying? You've never been with a woman?"

"How'd you manage that?" another asked, clearly confused.

"Good thing we're going" a third commented. "We can't have you die tomorrow without getting a good fuck!"

The others agreed, almost in unison, and it was only moments before they decided to each contribute with what they had to spare, to ensure that Julien could afford company. Nicolas, while adding his bit to the pile and the chatter and cheering, kept his thoughts to himself. It amused him, not only the way the soldiers clapped Julien on the shoulder in a camaraderie fashion, but how they seemed to have completely missed the specific phrasing of Julien's admission. He had never said that he had never had sex, only that it had never been with a woman. As for having had a good fuck before he died… well, Nicolas knew for sure that Julien had.

As they went, his amusement only grew, from hearing the various descriptions of what sex would be like: something between an internal explosion of dwarven glitterdust-bombs to a divine epiphany, apparently. Julien did not seem very convinced, but grimaced rather darkly at Nicolas, who shrugged. It was not as if they could very well get a room for just the two of them, alone, without any of the staff. Not on a night such as this, when business was sure to be booming. Not when Julien was the one who wanted their intimacy to remain private, rather than public, knowledge.

Though it was a pity.

It was not long until they reached the brothel, a well-kept building with yellow plaster on the façade and clean windows, open to the night, through which one could see golden lights and hear laughter and talking. The door was open as well, presumably to allow some small amount of air to run in and out of the establishment, as it was cramped with enthusiastic men and more or less accommodating women.

Julien looked very uncomfortable.

"You have done this?" he asked in a very low voice, unusually low even for Julien, as the other men hurried inside.

"Been to a brothel? Or slept with a woman?"

Julien made a gesture that inclined the second alternative and Nicolas could not help but smile, though he slowed his steps a bit more and replied in a hushed tone as well.

"Yes, I have. It's different, but not difficult. It won't be a problem for you, I'm sure."

He was strangely pleased by the thought that there was something he had done and had experience of that Julien did not. Even if it was something as silly as going to bed with a woman.

"Will you do it tonight?"

Nicolas stopped at that, watching Julien curiously for a moment. Then he shook his head.

"No" he replied, simply. "I can always excuse myself with an empty purse, but you, my friend, are definitely hooked. Just get it over with and we'll get back to camp."

He was not sure if his smile, meant to be reassuring, actually accomplished this, but they went in to the middle of the room where several of the others from their group had already gone with their ladies of choice.

"Now messere, which of these fine girls catches your fancy?" the madam of the establishment asked, all while Bastien and two other men from their group – waiting for their turn with some women already occupied, Nicolas guessed – attentively listening in. "What about Josie? Or perhaps Madeline?"

She pointed at two of the women currently in the room, both with rounded features and perhaps twice Julien's age. Julien appeared not to know what sort of reply might be acceptable, and Nicolas was just about to answer something for him when a clear voice rang from the balcony circling the room.

"I'll take him" the voice said, which proved to belong to a young, slender elven girl with eyes that gleamed forest-green even in the subdued light of the brothel's lamps. "Just a quickie, right?"

"There are a lot of customers tonight" the madam explained, attempting to look as if this fact disturbed her business rather than improved it. "It's three times the usual price for overnight stay, messere."

"I-I think I will be alright" Julian managed. Nicolas had never heard him so hesitant before, but the slight stammer made his unease clear. An unease that the others no doubt thought to be merely nerves, because once again they gave him encouraging claps on the back and words of approval on the woman – even though she was an elf. Bastien, charged with handling the scrambled means of payment, gave the coin to the madam before heading off with a girl of his own.

"Take your time" Nicolas said. "When you're done I'll be here to escort you back to camp. You will make sure he's still in one piece, right?"

The question was directed to the elf, who snorted derisively.

"Follow me" she said simply and turned around in the staircase, leaving Julien to follow her upstairs, which he did, though not very enthusiastically. Nicolas shook his head slightly at this – not because he was not pleased by Julien's lack of experience or desire to bed a woman, in a brothel, but because he knew that if Julien wanted the truth about his sexual preferences to remain private, he needed to keep up some level of appearance. If he had not volunteered information about his shortcomings, perhaps he could have gotten away from the other men's expectations by saying he lacked the money for such sport, like Nicolas, but the way things had gone… well, perhaps once would be enough to convince the others.

Nicolas did as he had intended, said he had too little money for the private chambers but would enjoy some drink and company, and so it was that he spent the night with ale and the bits and pieces of conversation that the women and the soldiers that came and went. It was a long wait and he did not know for sure how much time had passed since Julien had left when at last he appeared again, standing at the lower steps of the staircase with a strange look on his face.

Only half awake, quite tired and quite tipsy, Nicolas got up from his chair and went to the other man.

"Something the matter?" he asked. "Was she that good?"

Somehow he doubted that, but Julien looked embarrassed. Flushed.

"Outside" he murmured and took the lead, leaving Nicolas to follow, head full of questions. They were almost outside the city walls again before Julien finally slowed down and allowed Nicolas to catch up with him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, head somewhat cleared from liquor in the cool night air. "Hey, wait a bit. Is that… blood?"

He had gripped the other man's arm to get him to stop, then raised his hand to Julien's head where something wet had glimmered in the shine of the city lights. His hand came away red with congealed blood.

"What happened?" he asked again, this time apparently in a more demanding tone, because Julien finally replied. Not straightforwardly, but almost under his breath, embarrassment rising again on his cheeks.

"She hit me with a billet and took off. With my purse."

It took several long moments before Nicolas knew what to make of himself. Typically enough, while what he wanted to do was to burst out in rage and demand they turn around to hold the madam responsible for the crime, what he actually did was laugh. Well, just a chuckle really, and a smile of pity and compassion.

"That's harsh" he said. "And your first time too…"

"You sound as if I should mourn this turn of events?"

"I don't think many men would, even if caution could be of use in the future."

"There will not be another visit."

"Oh. So you're done with women? Or just whores in general and a certain elven one in particular?"

Julien made a half motion with his hand.

"I was always done with women. I am, however, not done with _you_."

Nicolas laughed at this, his body suddenly warm from something other than drink.

"All right", he said, "but let's get that wound cleaned first."

"THE DARKSPAWN! They're coming!"

The shout cut right through the camp. It was not yet dawn but the call was soon taken up by others and then drowned in the sounds of impending battle. Orders were being shouted, weapons clattered, soldiers stumbled and ran over each other in their hurry to prepare themselves for whatever awaited them. In the darkness of the tent, still warm from the night's brief but intense encounter with Julien, Nicolas scrambled to his feet and pulled his boots back on while gathering his mace, soon running with the others to the tent where the armor was kept. The Wardens were rallying the troops in unison with the lieutenants' calls, enforcing with their commands the undying habit of soldiers to follow commands even when still half asleep. They came together, the men, falling into line, and Nicolas felt the smoke of the fires, felt the buzz of energy that moved again from man to man, creating a sort of frenzied charge that ran through every step they took, into the ground and spreading, building, until every fiber of his being vibrated, trembled, with it.

He searched the mass of bodies for Julien, but first saw only Alec, the man's face alight with the same enthusiasm that Nicolas felt in his own body. He saw Bastien, red-eyed from the night's exercises, but his jaw determinedly set as he put his armor on. And then he saw Julien, impressive as ever, with his giant sword and his armor shining in the glow of the rising morning sun.

"Forward!" a lieutenant bellowed, his arm falling to the ground as the men began to move, falling into step, their march thundering on the ground as they joined the other garrisons and every individual faded into the throng of moving limbs: men streamlining into soldiers, soldiers into an army.

So they marched. And so they fought.


End file.
